


Vauxhall Cross

by Kat_in_the_Hat



Category: James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_in_the_Hat/pseuds/Kat_in_the_Hat
Summary: What had first been touted as Lana Castillo's career defining promotion was quickly feeling more and more like an exile to proverbial Siberia.~ Maybe I was being uncharitable. I was definitely being uncharitable. Frankly I’d have rather been anywhere else on the planet. Phú Quốc in rainy season was sounding pretty good.CIA liaison to MI6, my left ass cheek. ~Shameless indulgence of my love for Sean Bean, let's be honest.





	Vauxhall Cross

Vauxhall Cross, home of MI6 and the British Secret Intelligence Service, was hideous. The irony of the former British Empire housing their foreign operatives in a monstrosity meant to resemble a Mayan temple would have been complete had they only painted it as a massive Union Jack or perhaps just left a sign stating ‘Imperialism Personified Here’. Whatever happened to British architecture after Victoria died I didn’t know.

 

Maybe I was being uncharitable. I was definitely being uncharitable. Frankly I’d have rather been anywhere else on the planet. Phú Quốc in rainy season was sounding pretty good.

 

_CIA liaison to MI6, my left ass cheek._

 

* * * * * *

 

What had first been touted as a career defining promotion was quickly feeling more and more like an exile to proverbial Siberia. Getting settled in London had been a stressor all on its own, let alone the knowledge that Day One would consist of walking into a lion’s den of foreign agents who would sniff me out before I even opened my mouth. Though, that could be blamed on the dossier all the department heads had doubtless already received on me, probably containing much more detail than the Agency would have ever handed over. It had been a few years since I’d been in the UK, and over a decade since doing so under my own name, but MI6 wouldn’t be MI6 if they didn’t keep updated files on every foreign agent they could identify. I’d heard their so-called Quartermaster was a stickler for such things, so I would count myself lucky if half that building’s staff they didn’t know what color underwear I had on today. The very obvious tail on me since Heathrow didn’t help the nerves any.

 

I’d been given a long weekend to get myself settled. The maisonette had been found and bought courtesy of MI6 and, since I had no family to neither move with me nor use an excuse to pick my own residence, I was stuck with their choice in Warwick Square. The gorgeous bay windows with full view out onto the park couldn’t distract from the fact the place had to be under 24 hour watch. Then again, if the gangly brunette agent following me who looked barely out of diapers was any indication, they weren’t exactly pulling out the big guns. Their sloppy, baby agent could be easily lost as I discovered quite on accident upon getting into a cab and inadvertently losing him in London traffic. I’d have felt bad if I wasn’t sure he’d catch up to me at the new flat. When I arrived ‘home’ on Wednesday night with my backpack, carry-on, and the two massive duffle bags I’d managed to flirt the baggage claim beta into allowing despite their being of near unconscionable size I was exhausted and cranky as hell. My furniture and the remains of my more fragile personal effects had been shipped a few days earlier and held overnight due to “international processing measures.” In other words, MI6 was taking a good, long look through everything I owned and I’d have to do a thorough sweep for bugs later.

 

I slept on the carpeted bedroom floor with several blankets and my duffle for a pillow and lamented my agreement to this posting. I knew why I’d been  _offered_  the position; my unassuming omega biology was an oddity in the field of espionage and coupled with my spotless service record and lack of embroilment with any of the various MI6 entanglements in the last few years made me an ideal link for two agencies with more tension than our status as allies would suggest. I knew why I’d been offered the post; outside of a bureaucrat, there were few as nonthreatening or unbiased on our side of the pond. I just didn’t know why I’d accepted it. I fell into the kind of unfulfilling deep sleep only travel exhaustion and jetlag can create.

 

Several frustratingly unhelpful phone calls were made the next morning until I was finally assured my belongings would arrive by Friday morning at the latest, so I decided to unpack as much as possible and then link up with a few of my contacts. After hanging my clothes in the walk-in, organizing my toiletries in the bathroom, hanging towels, putting away linens, and the like I was ready to have my fucking furniture back. Staring at the empty apartment was pissing me off. Repacking my rucksack of anything I absolutely didn’t want getting into MI6 hands, including my laptop, some off shore banking information that was still under an alias’ name in case of emergency, my cell phone, and other valuables, I went so far as to bring it into the bathroom with me, half convinced MI6 would break down the front door while I was shampooing my hair. I realized belatedly that I hadn’t eaten since the terrible plane food the day before.

 

The light mist of rain from this morning was turning into more of a drizzle and I decided to take advantage of the weather in my bid to lose my tail for this afternoon. Black shirt, jack, jeans, umbrella, and backpack covered with a gaudy yellow throwaway poncho I’d picked up at the airport. Rucksack and umbrella safely hidden under the garish plastic, I pulled the hood up and made my way out the door and around the park on foot and then southeast towards Vauxhall Bridge, stopping at a café to eat a sandwich before finding an ATM and taking out several hundred pounds, unsure how much I’d need to conceal my financial movements from MI6 till I spoke with my handler here. Technically I was supposed to be operating above board here, but I was still a spy in a foreign nation and counting my chickens before they hatched had never been in my nature.

 

My tail was the same gangly kid from yesterday so I decided to lose him around a corner near Bessborough Gardens when I saw a group of equally brightly colored tourists up ahead. I slowed down only slightly, matching my steps with theirs as though I was trying to weave between them. With the majority of the crowd between Gangly Boy and myself, I slipped the poncho into the nearest trash bin on the corner, opened my umbrella low, and ducked around the corner, umbrella up, dressed all in black, and well down Grosvenor Road before he probably even noticed. With any luck he’d follow them across the Thames before realizing I wasn’t in the huddle of Asian families. I would have felt badly if it hadn’t been so fun. A month out of mission rotation for a pulled rotator cuff and now the anxiety of having my privacy invaded had left me with a bit of an itch to scratch.

 

I looped back around and up to the Pimlico Station, bought myself an Oyster Card with my newly acquired cash, and tubed up to Victoria Station.

 

* * * * * *

 

I stomped back up to my new front door, laden with bags galore, after four hours of wandering around cold and wet London wondering not for the first time how everyone in this country wasn’t chronically depressed. It had gone as well as could be expected, which wasn’t much of anything. My only pleasant surprise of the day was another phone call from the moving company saying that my things had been released to them and they’d be arriving by five with everything. Hoping nothing had been broken or ‘lost,’ I stopped by a hardware store on the way back from my less than productive meeting. At least I’d managed to collect the packages that Lonnie had sent me under an alias and stowed them in my pack for later.

 

I did drop everything but my backpack on the stoop when I realized the leaf I’d left trapped in the doorjamb was gone. I carefully removed my pack and stooped low, putting on the glasses Lonnie had sent. Magnified by three, there was nothing in the keyhole to suggest inserting or turning the key would trip anything, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something attached on the other side of the door. I magnified again through the keyhole but could only see the hallway and into part of the living room and kitchen. The base of the stairs sat against the other wall and couldn’t be seen from this angle. The panes of frosted glass on either side couldn’t tell me much more. I inserted the key, hands shaking slightly with the surge of adrenaline as I turned the key and cracked the door open enough to check for an trip wires on the frame and turned to breath in the conditioned air of the empty flat. Well, empty except for one alpha whom I could now see from my crouch was quite calmly perusing my bookshelf. He had to have heard me, loud as I’d been coming up the front stairs. I decided to stop the charade of silence then, kicking the door open, letting it thump against the wall to reveal me in a hopefully casual lean against the frame. I silently thanked Lonnie for all her forward think for the tenth time that day, Glock G23 gripped firmly in my right hand.

 

“You have quite the collection,” the blond alpha turned, his smile cautiously pleasant. I surveyed him, looking for any weapons but his sweater and jeans were too tight to have concealed anything bigger than a knife, at this distance I was safe. He cocked his head at my conspicuous scrutiny of him. Nearly six feet tall, the alpha’s fluffy blond hair and friendly smile couldn’t distract from his formidable build and tanned skin, unusual given the spring showers the UK had been experiencing for some weeks. A fellow intelligence officer, clearly, though probably someone who worked more on undercover ops than handling, as was my preference.  _Though with a smile like that you never know._ If the shadows under his eyes were any indication, he’d returned quite recently, maybe even today. He closed the book with a snap but didn’t replace in on the built-in shelves, crossing his arms to make a very obvious appraisal of me.

 

“So you’re the American. You don’t seem to have much in the way of security,” he gave me a cheeky grin. He accent wasn’t quite that of a middle class Londoner, definitely eastern European born, maybe Ukrainian or Russian? It was slight; something about the inflections he chose should have been flatter in English. I only raised my eyebrow at his attempt at conversation. Seemingly unbothered by our rather one-sided tête-à-tête, he slipped my copy of Chapterhouse: Dune into its previous place and turned back to me.

 

“You know, if you’re going to actually make this secure, you’re going to need a much better lock, maybe reinforce the door a bit more,” he said in a more serious tone. I backed up, holstering my gun under my left arm and pointed out to the stoop and my bags with a huff. He laughed a sigh, “Fine, I just thought I’d come by and introduce myself as your new neighbor. Six has a habit of quartering us all near at least one other member of staff.” He said all this with a flourish on his way out the door, moving so quickly I almost didn’t realize he’d misunderstood till he was putting up his hood.

 

“Hey, get your ass back here!” he turned with eyes alight to take in my annoyed expression, “you break into my house, you make yourself useful,” I tossed him a heavy bag and left no room for argument when I turned to search with peeled eyes through the worsening rain until I located my rather clumsy shadow. “You too,” I called and pointed directly at him and gestured in mock grandeur toward the still open door. He hesitated, “come on, kid, you’re making my heating bill skyrocket! If you make me come out in the rain to get you I will smack you upside the head!” I pointed imperiously toward the door till he slowly unfolded his long limbs from behind the tree across the road and walked over with the look of a guilty puppy. “Stop looking at me like you just chewed up my slippers and come be helpful,” I handed him a bag and crowded the two males through the door with increasingly large arm movements, bags in both hands swinging wildly.

 

Once inside, neither seemed to know what to do, both taken quite off guard by my high-handedness. Blondie looked caught between laughter and annoyance and Puppy looked scared shitless. I didn’t have the patience to deal with their emotional wellbeing though; my day had already gone to hell in a hand basket. The movers were late, Blondie had scared the shit out of me, my place was still insecure and all I’d eaten today was that frankly terrible sandwich from a café I’d be sure to never visit again unless ISIS itself was after me.

 

After losing the little beta currently dripping on my front room floor, I’d dropped off a good deal of my genuine paperwork and other personal valuable in a safety deposit box under yet another alias and picked up my package from Lonnie including my newly upgraded compact G23 and holster, several alias’ worth of birth certificates, passports, driver’s licenses, and credit cards, several thousand dollars’ worth of cash in a variety of foreign currency and the keys to several other P.O. boxes I’d have to keep an eye on. She’d also included a few gizmos I’d have to call her to ask about the full function of, given the possibility of injury if I didn’t know what I was doing. Several Agency personnel, both officially known to the UK government and non-, were at work all over the city and hopefully I’d be getting dossiers on them the next day at the American embassy but I’d needed to secure a place to keep everything first. So then I had to go under a different fake name to yet another bank to open a safety deposit box for all that documentation. I knew technically anything not on paper could leave an electronic trail to follow, but this was one of those times when I really just wished they could email me.  And now there were two able bodied men in my house; if they thought they were leaving, boy did they have another thing coming.

 

“Shoes off,” I ordered, loving how much I sounded like Abuela. That woman could order a man to kiss the ground she walked on and he’d probably do it. Of course, our grandfather had always done that regardless. “You,” I swung to look at terrified Puppy and suddenly felt bad, he really was just a kid, “what’s your name, hmm?”

 

He blinked in shock for a second and answered in a small voice, “Michaels,” he cleared his throat and tried again, “Sean Michaels, ma’am, I’m your protection detail…” I gave him a look and he turned a striking red color while looking anywhere and everywhere but at me. Blondie was silently losing the battle to giggles beside him.

 

“How kind of MI6 to feel I need protection,” I droned and Blondie’s silent snicker turned to fits of coughing and suspiciously crinkled eyes. I studiously ignored him. “As my furniture has been so  _unobtrusively_ held up, I need help with a few things. Besides, it’s probably better you stay in here to help protect me in case any of the moving men do anything untoward,” I winked at my blushing ‘protection’ before turning to his giggling counterpart. “And since you were so kind as to demonstrate how scarce the security is, perhaps you’d like to put your money where your mouth is,” I gestured toward the bag I’d heaved at him previously where he’d find all the necessities for the improvements he’d casually listed and more. He at least had the good grace to look cowed, though the smile didn’t leave his face and his gaze was still direct.

 

“It would be my pleasure. Alec Trevelyan, at your service ma’am,” he drawled in a deep tone I’m sure regularly had women weak in the knees, but I just silently prayed for pantience and brushed past them both, tossing my Wellingtons into the growing shoe pile by the door. Making a mental note to get a shoe rack, I hefted my hardware store finds onto the kitchen counter quickly followed by my backpack. I pulled out my laptop, turning the hotspot on my phone and linking the two, making another mental note to get Wi-Fi set up the next day as well.  _So many fucking things to do and no time to do it in._  I instructed him to replace all the downstairs lights with shatterproof bulbs, and the ones upstairs with low blue-light bulbs. While he was doing that, I racked up possibly the most expensive grocery bill of my life online shopping and had it delivered to the house, making myself feel only marginally better by having it all delivered in enough reusable bags for a lifetime. Once done I started pulling out all the kitchen appliances to check they’d been properly hooked up and turned on before doing the same with the laundry unit, thanking the Lord above for in-housing laundry. The sound of the electric drill I’d bought going in the front room caught my attention and Sean came back downstairs to find Alec and I arguing on the floor over the best way to install the peephole. Thankfully he didn’t fight me on my insistence on securing the mail slot, replacing the typical half-inch screws in the doorframe and hinges with two inch ones, or installing the deadbolt though he did natter on about the importance of an electronic security system.

 

“Security systems can be hacked, Trevelyan,” I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. He nodded sagely and continued staring at the door blankly for a moment until he shrugged and collected the remains of my hardware store haul to start roaming the house and replacing the flimsy locks on the windows for more sturdy, bolted ones. I toyed with idea of splurging for tempered glass on the first floor, but I doubted the Agency would consider it a necessity and that could be quite a pricy bill.  _Maybe the idea of a security system isn’t such a bad one after all._  But if I was going to put one in, it would be well after the boys had gone. Lovely as having the extra hands was, I really couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t report back each and every thing said in their presence, and the added stress of not having yet de-bugged the house made me tight lipped with Alec’s consistent inquiry about my move and new job. Sean seemed to be more the quiet but attentive type, paying close attention to Alec in particular in an almost idolizing way. I wondered what kind of stories he must have heard about the older agent for him to light up at the slightest attention from the man. All direction from Alec was received with enthusiasm and followed with vigor, a quality that further endeared Sean to me, even as I still thought of him as Puppy. I figured I probably shouldn’t tell him that though.

 

The doorbell rang an hour and a half later, the furniture delivery truck arriving at 18:30 to a stony faced me at the door.

 

“Alanna Castillo?” the man looked bored and not nearly as terrified as he should have been. He took one whiff of the air and cocked his head, a greasy smile sliding across his face.

 

“You’re late,” I clipped my words. His smile grew and he relaxed his posture with a hand against the door, too far into my personal space to be confused for anything other than inappropriate.

 

“It’s okay, chica. We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.” He looked a bit like a pigeon trying to preen for a mate, if that pigeon was perhaps dipped in male privilege with a light sprinkling of racist exoticism first. A growl ripped out from behind me and I turned, expecting that Alec had blown his top, but surprisingly the sound had come from the previously mild-mannered beta. Where Alec was measured tension, Sean looked like he had homicidal intend and wasn’t afraid for anyone in a mile radius to know it. I couldn’t help but crack a smile before schooling my expression and turning back around to see a now appropriately blanched beta.

 

“I would suggest you do your job and you do it competently. Now.” Despite his girth, he could move quickly when he wanted to and in less than an hour my house was set up with so little hassle that once the movers were gone I told the boys if this whole spy thing didn’t work out they should go into business as moving facilitators. They’d probably make more money, honestly. I suspected they made them readjust the couch angle a few times just for their own petty glee at watching the large beta and his crew sweat.

 

The grocery delivery arrived ten minutes after the furniture did, and I tipped the driver generously for the pure amount of things he’d managed to jam into his compact car. It was quite impressive actually, watching him remove bag after bag like a reverse clown car trick. Alec helped me put everything away in the midst of the boxes strewn around the kitchen, leaving Sean to quite competently terrorize the moving men for a few minutes. He smiled at me brightly upon hearing a particularly creative string of curses in Latvian from the other room that I’m sure the portly beta had assumed would go un-translated. Unfortunately for him, Sean responded back in an equally creative string that insulted his mother quite a bit. Alec had to sit down on the kitchen floor among the frozen spinach and bananas as he clenched his stomach in silent laughter and I had to hold onto the open refrigerator door for support. Both of us wiped tears from our face as we finished the last of the unpacking.

 

By the time all the furniture had been put to right and the boxes placed in the correct rooms it was going on eight o’clock and I was loathed to cook. Alec suggested he could cook, but I took one look at his shadowed eyes and sat him and his devotee down on the sofa for Chinese take-out. ‘Take away’ they corrected me, but either way it tasted amazing.

 

“You know, I didn’t actually expect either of you to do this much,” I admitted through a mouth full of broccoli and chicken. Sean’s brow furrowed in obvious confusion, “I just needed someone tall to reach the lights and the top of the door frame since I didn’t have a step ladder. Y’all went above and beyond the call of duty, I must say,” I continued to shovel food in my face as I spoke. Thankfully all three of us seemed to be inhaling our food at the same rate, or I would have felt ridiculous at my vacuum-like eating habits.

 

Puppy shook his head, “and leave a perfectly warm house for the cold and rainy outdoors? Nah, I’m good mate,” Sean’s Bristol accent had gotten thicker after a couple of beers. Alec snorted and I just rolled my eyes, not bothering to point out that the tail was useless to begin with. He seemed to know anyway.

 

“Alright boys, love you dearly but please get the fuck out,” I said once the clock hit quarter to eleven. Alec looked ready to fall over but he only had to go next door, it was Sean I was worried about. “Do you have someone to take over your shift?” He nodded mid yawn and fumbled in his pocket for his phone and shot out a quick text. He said he’d wait outside and I presumed he meant to keep up appearances. Alec swung an arm around his shoulders, sending me a jaunty salute and a reminder to say hello on Monday.

 

Bug sweep patrol was made easy with one of Lonnie’s handy dandy gift gadgets, finding a staggering total of forty-two in a variety of ridiculous places. I was starting to think most of them weren’t even active, just placed in increasingly obvious and stupid places to piss me off. It wasn’t until I found one right behind every single book in the Dune series but nowhere else on my bookshelf that I was a hundred percent sure it had been Alec, or at least that he had added a few of his own. Six of them were placed on the fridge as magnets in the shape of a smiley face; definitely Alec.

 

I collected them all in a plastic baggie and then put them in the drawer of the side table that had ended up in the front room and promptly went upstairs to call Lonnie on one of my burners to thank her profusely for being a wonderful, heaven sent angel. She laughed and told me the jetlag had rotted by brain. She was probably right. I showered and passed out in my freshly cleaned bedding, thinking to myself that maybe this posting wasn’t the absolute worst thing in the world.

 

* * * * * *

 

Saturday morning I woke up to a text from the assistant of the SFS Minister I was meant to be meeting at the US embassy saying they’d had to push my appointment to Monday.  _I think the fuck not._  I called half the people in my electronic Rolodex, starting with embassy employees, and slowly working my way up till I was bothering the secretary of my boss’ boss’ boss’ boss. I didn’t even know him, but the plight of an overseas operative sans handler with a deadline of less than three days before walking into the lion’s den of a major US ally totally blind seemed to ring a few alarm bells because I was soon getting a flustered phone call back from the original minister’s PA saying he’d meet me in an hour. I was there twenty minutes early, seating myself in the anteroom to the minister’s office and getting the cold shoulder from the same secretary I’d been harassing all day.

 

I was not greeted as I entered nor spoken to until 15:30 on the dot when she looked up and with the fakest of cheerful smiles and said, “he will see you  _now_.”  I kept my face carefully blank as I nodded and stood to allow her to open the door for me. As I walked through, I found a finely boned man, dwarfed by his desk and overstuffed chair squinting through bifocals at the small mountain of paperwork on his desk. He looked up belatedly, seeming to notice me only when the door clicked closed.

 

“Please, take a seat,” he said in a reedy voice before peering back through his cloudy glasses at the folder in front of him. He was British, so clearly not the man I’d been fighting to meet with. “Impressive service record, you exceeded all expectations, if you don’t mind me saying,” I did, but I was used to it. Latina and omega made for quite the commotion in a world of old white men. He cleared his throat and continued, “Yes, impressive, I cannot say I envy you your new posting. As such, you’re not technically an active undercover agent, though it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re out in the field before too long…” He seemed to be speaking to himself, continuing to read and the silence quickly became uncomfortably long.

 

“Sir,” he startled back into awareness, “what exactly is it that I’m doing here? Shouldn’t I be speaking to the American Minister? Am I handling duel CIA and MI6 informants? What exactly is my role here? Everything has been, if I’m not mistaken, purposefully vague until this point, and I understand it’s need-to-know, but at this point I very much do need to know.” I kept my voice light, neither accusatory of his putting off our meeting nor letting the inadequacies of the bureaucracy at work slide. His well-groomed eyebrows shot up and he gave a single throaty laugh before falling to quiet chuckles. I couldn’t help but blink in surprise at this strange little man.

 

“Vagueness is something you must get used to in this country, my dear, we brew it in our tea.” He chortled for a moment before clearing his throat again and sitting a little straighter, “Your mother was Scottish, correct?” I nodded; sure he was staring at my file, “And your father, Cuban. You have a graduate degree in political science and a special commendation from O Division…” The pause was clear; he’d heard of the infamous omega special ops, though how much was fact or fiction, he’d never know. “You were initially being courted by the State Department before you decided to join the Agency, correct?” I nodded an affirmative but he wasn’t looking at me anymore. “So, neither parent US born, background in espionage and special operations, was thinking of becoming a diplomat before beginning training at the Farm and all your previous subordinates list you as an exemplary leader…all in all I’d say you’re about as perfect, at least on paper, as we could ask for.”

 

I cleared my throat, “Ah yes, well Ms. Castillo I’m delighted to tell you that you are no longer a citizen of the United States,” I startled, “or the United Kingdom.” I opened my mouth but he stopped me with a wave, “I understand your confusion but please let me finish. You were told you would be the liaison to MI6, however you assumed it would be for the CIA. You will in fact be working as an independent United Nation’s agent in direct control of MI6’s most convert operations.

 

“It’s why this meeting was so difficult for you to make, I do apologize for that, but you were not meant to be learning all this from myself, rather your co-liaison within MI6. She was called away on unfortunately urgent business and will not be back in the country till Monday, hence this morning’s delay.” My blank stare may have indicated the depths to which this still needed to process. He leaned forward, “you’ve heard of the MI6’s Double 0 Branch, correct?” I nodded jerkily. “Strictly speaking, they may be British citizens, but their assignments go beyond purely British interests and into global peace protection. You will be helming that ship, so to speak.”  _As if I wasn’t having a panic attack about my qualification before._

 

Then I had a thought, “how is it that you are privy to this information, minister?”

 

“Minister! Oh good god, did that absolute waste of space not tell you anything? I am M, head of MI6.”

 

* * * * * *

 

My conversation with Mallory, M, as he’d insisted on being called within earshot of any subordinates, went surprisingly quickly. In the space of half an hour my whole world had been turned on its head and then I’d been sent off with enough boxes of paperwork to require a dolly and a sleeve of “digestives” that M insisted was a kind of cookie-biscuit thing popular in the UK, despite the name calling to mind Pepto-Bismol or TUMS. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, honestly, so I just sat and stared at the mountain of file folders than had migrated across my dining room table.  _Fuck it._   _This is not for today._  And so I became a productive member of society again. I called the cable company, got my Wi-Fi and television set up, unpacked all the random boxes of kitchen utensils and throw pillows. Stowed all the deconstructed boxes in the back of the front room’s closet till I figured out what to do with them, I had one box left to unpack in the living room.

 

Getting Sean and Alec to help me hang Abuela’s gold-framed mirror over the faux fireplace in the living room reminded me that I liked when my whole family had been together on the shelves at my previous apartment. Mirror as the centerpiece, Ma’s urn on one side and Papi’s on the other, all together as they should be.

 

“Why did I agree to this?” It had felt so right at this time, accepting the post, but with the fresh fear of this unknown massive responsibility I was undertaking, how could I feel anything but small? “So…what do y’all think?” I gestured around the stark room, completely devoid of any loving memories or life, and couldn’t help the tears that fell.

 

* * * * * *

 

Friday nights were never a good time for working, but I did it anyway. I went for a run, waving to Sean who tried to hide and then seemed to give up and simply ran with me till I was exhausted and he was only mildly out of breath.  _That boy has long legs, okay?_  I finally pulled out of him that he was twenty-four, just graduated from the LSE but had years of intensive cryptology study as a hobby before he was approached by MI5 and then later transferred to Six. I wished him well and said I needed to get back to work.

 

A facemask and bath in my giant tub later, I spread the folders out on the floor of the undersized third room upstairs that I decided would be my office. Three piles: current personnel files, currently on-going mission reports, and older mission reports influential enough for their effects to be relevant to my future within the Branch. I ordered the mission files chronologically, as best as possible given that many overlapped, and then started with the personnel files. I didn’t have Sean’s file, though he was on a list of agents currently being watched for Double 0 potential a few years down the line. Agents 001 through 005 were the traditional crew; white men, most with service records as MI6 agents longer than I’d been alive with the exception of 002 who had been instated three years ago due to his predecessor’s death but was a traditionalist at heart. They were all alphas, all mated to omegas or not at all. 001 and 004 would probably want to retire in the next few years, both pushing sixty and mated. Agent 006 was Alec I was surprised to find, though given Sean’s admiration for him I shouldn’t have been. His service record was…damn he was good, arguably better than some of the older agents with twice as long to build their careers. He was only thirty-two, two years older than me, and already a Double 0 with distinctions enough for three. Agent 007 gave him a run for his money though, the two were neck and neck and from the same class of cadets interestingly enough. 007 was listed as mated to the Quartermaster, however, and wasn’t that just intriguing? I pulled the Quartermaster’s file only to be shocked at the near child staring up at me. He was actually a year younger than Sean, seemingly impossible given his rank, but the qualifications of a boy genius stared up at me and from even a cursory glance of his history I could tell he’d earned every distinction he’d been given. There was a photo of his receiving his latest commendation and though he looked terribly stiff and embarrassed his mate could be seen half in the background clearly shining with pride.  _So MI6 has a power couple._

 

Agent 008 was a South African native and the only non-white agent so far, he moved to the UK for university and MI6 had snapped him up. They were all polyglots, but thirty-seven languages was something I couldn’t even contemplate without a headache. The unmated beta was the only one smiling in his photo and I couldn’t help but smile a little too. Agents 009, 0010 and 0011 were all female alphas and British born, with 009 Caucasian and 0010 and 0011 both black women from London. Reportedly the three were thick as thieves and referred to themselves as The Angels. I wondered who their Charlie was.

 

0012 was the final agent, a short and sweet looking fellow omega. He was Welsh, with a shock of black hair and endearingly crooked teeth. He was the youngest of the Double 0 Agents at only twenty years old. I whistled low. He’d been kept out of honey pot missions so far, which I was oddly pleased about. It would have been easy to throw an omega that young in the deep end, and I was glad someone had taken care with him rather than use him in the most obvious of ways. He was an amazing shot, which probably helped.

 

After getting through all of Q Branch’s personnel as well as R&D and medical staff, I came to my counterpart: Eve Moneypenny. Wickedly intelligent, an alpha with a knack for figuring out exactly what makes people tick; she would have made an excellent interrogation officer in another life.  _Hell, maybe in this one._  After reading her file I read it again and did the same with M’s, noting where their true lives and covers within MI6 divided. They held a very carefully concealed lie in place that she was his secretary and no longer an active agent.  _I’m sure that went over well._ But Ms. Moneypenny was nothing if not a practical woman, it would seem, and she maintained her cover within her own department flawlessly.

 

Two a.m. rolled around before I even noticed, so absorbed was I in reading past reports on the goings on of MI6’s most scandalous branch. I finally passed out once I noticed the time and bothered to drag myself into my bed.

 

* * * * * *

 

Lonnie and I had a two-hour FaceTime conversation in code. Well, she was convinced it was in code since apparently “my best friend would never withhold good gossip from me, so either this is code or you’ve been body snatched.” I laughed.

 

“Oh baby, I know you’re gonna figure this out one day and when you do you’re gonna kick my ass for not spilling.” I was fairly certain she was going to invent some way of throttling me through a computer screen. If anyone could manage it, it’d be her.

 

Saturday passed slowly as I brought myself up to speed on the current goings on of Double 0 Branch. By Saturday afternoon I was sick of being inside all day but I didn’t know anyone in the city so I decided to actually take the time and check out the back garden. I’d poked my head out for about 10 seconds Friday evening to direct the movers to just set the patio chairs anywhere, but hadn’t really taken stock of what was in existence in the flower beds. Whatever they were, they sure as hell weren’t flowers. Creeping ivy had started to overtake everything in its path and there were a few saplings coming up that I was fairly certain hadn’t been planted on purpose. Another trip to the hardware store and four o’clock found me in faded jeans and a flannel digging around in dirt.

 

“I know you,” a deep voice piped up from over the fence. Alec’s face just cleared the fence to look down at me. I gasped up at him in mock horror, shooting him an annoyed look.

 

“Are you breaking into people’s houses again?” he decided to vault over the fence and nearly landed on top of one of my new plants. “Hey you, get your own badly weeded flower beds!” I laughed despite myself and threw a weed in his general direction. He just plopped down next to me and started weeding along with me. We were comfortable in the silence for a while till I realized he was wearing a suit that cost more than I make in a month. Before I could voice my concern though, I realized I didn’t actually know how much I made per month. I’d been so concerned with my existential crisis I wasn’t even sure what the UN paid their very own death squad. The ethical ramifications of continuing on this path reared their ugly heads once again and brought with them good ol’ generalized anxiety. Alec shuffled closer without my noticing, not exactly in my space, but closer than before.

 

“So what did you do today?” I snapped back to reality and quickly recovered.

 

“I met M,” the strain in my voice was clear but given Alec’s sneer he didn’t seem to find it misplaced.

 

“Fuck that pencil pusher. He too busy bathing in spreadsheets to bother to take the stick out of his ass,” I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped me.

 

“Careful, there. Sounds like I might be one of the pencil pushers soon,” he just shook his head with a grin and we went back to our comfortable silence for a few minutes. “What do you know about M? Besides the obvious,” I asked, circumventing what was sure to be some further comment on M’s backside.

 

He seemed to ponder my question intensely for a moment before answering in the most professional tone I’d heard from him yet, profiling as an objective observer, “He’s a stickler for the rules, relying primarily on statistics to ascertain a final view on an objective. I don’t know him well personally. Still stuck in the old M’s shadow, I’d wager. Have you heard about her?” I shook my head, “She was perpetually focused on the big picture, perhaps too much so for her own good. Put the ethical high ground first always, usually at the expense of her own agents. It cost her life in the end.” I nodded, remembering the case file on one Raoul Silva. The old M’s death had been mentioned, and the fact that Silva’s had been a case of revenge after his being black-listed and left for dead, but to hear it laid out so plainly made a shiver run down my spine. How much of what had been blamed on her actually fell at the feet of Moneypenny’s and my predecessors? Would I be put in the same situation, forced to sacrifice one agent for six? Could I pull a trigger on a life without it being a direct threat to my own? The CIA had never asked me to kill in anything but self-defense and even those faces haunted me. Would the greater good really keep me warm at night when I woke shaking to the faces of good agents I’d put down in the hope that their sacrifice meant something? My thoughts went round and round and Alec let me drown in them for a while before distracting me again. “A little birdie told me you’re looking into getting that security system I mentioned.”

 

“Little birdie looks more like a puppy to me,” I laughed, remembering his mop of hair bouncing like floppy ears as we’d run. “Besides, it’s either that or invest in tempered glass all along the first floor, and I doubt the Agency is gonna shell out for that,” I confirmed wryly. I had a sudden thought that the UN might just pay for that level of protection for their Co-Director of Double 0 Branch and had to clear my throat. The sun was going down. “Did you have to go into the office on a Saturday?”

 

His smile turned a bit embarrassed, not an expression I thought I’d ever see on him, “there was a matinee of The Firebird today,” he admitted.

 

I couldn’t help but grin, “Stravinsky fan, huh?”

 

Helping me up off my knees as we both struggled up from the ground and brushed ourselves off in the fading light, “I have to keep the old country alive in my heart somehow,” he gave me a snooty kind of shrug as he adjusted his collar. I rolled my eyes.

 

“I think the French will fight you for him. I’m sure they claim him as an honorary ‘frog’,” he cackled at the term and released my arm.

 

“It was called the Ballet Rous for a reason madam!” he called as he vaulted back over the fence to his own garden with a rakish wink, careful to not ruin the work we’d done.

 

I went back inside to make dinner, needing something to do with all my fidgety energy, reminding myself it was workplace harassment to actively admire the ass of a colleague, especially a subordinate…even if they didn’t know they were one. I fell asleep with a smile to the thought of my mother making some innuendo about men jumping in and out of my garden, followed by Abuela’s scandalized tut and Papi’s booming laugh.

 

* * * * * *

 

Monday found me staring at the hideous green and white structure from across Vauxhall Bridge and wondering how exactly I was meant to pretend to be CIA when I no longer had jurisdiction over CIA funds or resources. Hypothetically, I would be working with Ms. Moneypenny so she could direct me in maintaining my cover as she did but  _fuck_  if I wasn’t nervous, my fingers idly bending the rim of the coffee cup lid over and over again. Sean hadn’t bothered to stay hidden, meeting me outside at 6:45 with a tray of coffee in one hand and a bag of what looked like pure grease in the other. Thankfully I’d already eaten, but the added cup of coffee was always appreciated.

 

I wanted to walk on my first day, so despite the floral pencil skirt and black blouse I wore flats. A good thing too, since early morning foot traffic seemed to accentuate how much longer my 6’2” companion’s legs were than mine. My medium length curls pinned out of my face with makeup in natural shades gave the impression of the cutesy, nonthreatening omega I preferred to be underestimated as. A few minutes of smiles and batting eyelashes and I’d have half the building eating out of the palm of my hand. The other half consisted of my actual purview however, and they’d be far less likely to fall for tricks they’d all done or seen done a thousand times before. No, with them I’d have to earn respect but as an equal not a superior, a slightly more difficult task when the most they’d be seeing me do was pushing papers and making phone calls.

 

By quarter after seven, we’d arrived and I was promptly signed in, given a temporary security badge till a formal one could be made later that day after my IDs had been checked thoroughly and then rechecked. Sean escorted me into an elevator where a few members of staff that I recognized but hadn’t formally met yet joined us for an utterly silent ride that was painfully British. I settled for a polite nod and slight smile in the otherwise silent elevator. The third floor was our destination, M’s office apparently, and Sean left me to my own devices once we’d arrived at his PA’s empty desk. Sean looked confused at the lack of reception, but I just waved him off and said I’d wait as I hung my coat on the hook behind the vacant desk. He nodded, tottering off probably to the security desk to further harangue them about my lack of a security pass just before the office door opened and out poked the head of one Eve Moneypenny, Co-Director of MI6 Double 0 Branch. I found myself surreptitiously wiping the sweat from my palm before shaking her hand and meeting her gaze. She ushered me into the room where M was already seated. He shook my hand for the first time, the beta seemingly had forgotten before, but took the cue from Moneypenny and they sat me down before welcoming me to my first day down the rabbit hole.

 

* * * * * *

 

If I was eager to see Q Branch before reading the Quartermaster’s file, now I was nearly bouncing off the walls. Eve, as she’d insisted I called her, and Mallory had greatly assuaged my fears in terms of ethical considerations and European multilateralism. The idea of third-world countries being left out in the cold on this so-called “investment in international peace” simply due to their lack of resources was a hard line for me, which I’d stated plainly. I would not prioritize European countries over others nor protect the citizens of the UK over those of one of its enemies. If we were to be nonbiased, it would be complete, regardless of where we were stationed. They seemed pleased by this; thankfully, my neutral tone seemed to not put Eve off me.

 

Neither of them seemed to limit their expectations of me based on my physical appearance either, though I couldn’t imagine it would always be that simple. I was prepared for some heavy bias from the Double 0s, even a little testing from the alpha women wouldn’t be too surprising. An omega in a power position was a curiosity at best and a target for harassment or misdirected self-loathing at worst. There’s nothing quite like being labeled an “uppity little bitch” early in your career to make you wary of just about everyone on first acquaintance.

 

Q Branch was all silver chrome and glass with what looked like more processing power wired together and into the walls than anyone could know what to do with. Then again, the bullpen probably contained more brainpower than anywhere else on British soil. Eve and I entered without pomp and circumstance, not wishing to disrupt the flow of world saving information. We slipped in, having already briefed me on the general hierarchy of the Branch. R&D was technically a separate entity but with Q as head of both branches, any previous distinction was pretty much obsolete.

 

The Quartermaster himself was seated on a platform at the back of the room that would have reminded me of a king’s dais had he not had his back to us. The entire room could see all his monitors; more a show of absolute transparency than absolute dominion. Q’s back was ramrod straight with a tension I was fairly certain had something to do with the agent he was yelling at over his headset.

 

“002, drop the package in the laundry shoot. I’ll bring someone else back around to pick it up later,” his voice was surprisingly calm, the speed of his fingers on the keyboard near impossible to track. I heard the faint sound of a raised voice on the other end of the line. “002 I cannot guarantee you a clean exit if you are still carrying the package once you get back to the lobby,” he took a slow breath as his face twisted in an expression I’d seen before on Lonnie when she threatened me with bodily harm through a computer screen. The Agent proceeded to do the exact opposite of what he’d been ordered, alpha superiority practically leaching out in the tone he took with Q. 002’s file had mentioned hardheadedness, but this was just plain insubordination. He’d be lucky if he returned to a job. It suddenly occurred to me that that was in fact my decision to make. I turned to Moneypenny, examining her darkening features. I wondered if this would be the final straw.  _Well, we’d better start looking into replacements, then._  Eve schooled her features before anyone else could notice and gestured for me to follow her out of Q Branch. Slightly disappointed I hadn’t gotten to properly meet the famous Q, I followed my peer in her stony silence down to the medical unit.

 

I was surprised I had any blood left after my visit, medical’s tests taking over two hours. Once my baseline fitness had been established, I was run through an MRI, CAT scan and several other tests involving electrodes as I ran on a treadmill and went through other exercises. They asked me to pee in a cup, took cheek and vaginal swabs as well as almost 500 ml of blood for baseline testing. After a palm, fingerprint, and retinal scan they gave me a salty snack and sent me packing. I thanked Eve for the use of her gym clothes and made a mental note to bring my own gym bag, since there was no way in hell I was borrowing clothes from someone almost a foot taller than me again. My key fob, security, and registered badges were waiting for me at the entrance desk on my way out and I took a company car home, Sean already in the back seat. I forced him inside for dinner and then upon his insistence that I let him help, sent him over to collect Alec. They arrived to me pelting them with the collection of bugs Alec had left; loudly proclaiming I would start putting CIA trackers in the linings of all his suits if he didn’t play nice. We managed to tuck away an impressive amount of food between the three of us and, at some point between the stir-fry and the demise of the entire half-gallon of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, Alec found dental floss and managed to turn his newly returned collection of electronic bugging devices into a strange puka-shell-esque necklace that he wore proudly

 

Their laughter still ringing hours after they’d left, the previously catatonic stillness of the house gave way to peace and for the first time in a long time I felt myself fully breath.

 

* * * * * *

 

Nearly six months at MI6 and I had nearly forgotten what it was like to ever be CIA, regardless of my MI6 internal cover. I’d have sworn I could never managed to forget was just how hot Argentina was in July but my memory really hadn’t done it justice.

 

“God damn it, I was not built for this,” I looked over at my fair-haired friend who would be sporting a truly impressive sunburn thanks to our day of surveillance and could only cringe. His northern European ancestry was truly not helpful in this climate. I couldn’t tell what redness was from the sun and what was from the heat, but either way he wasn’t coping well at all.

 

“Put more sunscreen on,” I demanded handing him the bottle of 50+ SPF for most likely the tenth time that day. The sun would be past prime burning time in less than an hour, but it would still be muggy and hot till sunset at 18:00. I wanted to get him inside much sooner than that though, the glazed look in his eyes bothering me most. We’d collected enough data and set enough live feeds around the cartel compound in question’s with my cover as a maid that we really couldn’t do much more than that for today. The actual kingpin herself wouldn’t arriving for another two days, and only her omega spouse and their children were here at the moment, so we had a couple days to lay low and scout out possible entry points, weaknesses to exploit, etc. Today’s tasks over with, I pulled our gear and a grumbling Alec off our rooftop lookout and out into the streets of Mendoza.

 

“It’s a shame they didn’t set up shop in a high rise or we could have been doing this in air-conditioning,” I muttered.

 

“Don’t tease me with hypotheticals,” was the only grumbled reply I received as I pulled him along by the wrist towards our hotel. Checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Knight, we linked arms as we made a beeline for the elevators and then our room, as always nearest the emergency exit.

 

“Take your clothes off,” I ordered to his amusement, but ignored the innuendos he was surely cooking up in that heat addled brain of his and started a cool bath for him with a few handfuls of baking soda for good measure. I’d also heard that vinegar was good for balancing skin PH but I wasn’t sure if the two combined would be an irritant, so I decided to stick with what I knew. Once the bath was decently filled up I went back to the bedroom to find a very naked Alec half passed out on the bed.

 

“No no no, get up kiddo,” he may have been older than me, but he was smart enough to not argue with an omega operating on full maternal instincts. He’d been wearing all black, the idiot, though thankfully his dress choice had saved most of his torso and lower body. His arms, shoulders, neck, and face however were another story. Despite my insistence on sunscreen every hour for the both of us, he must have sweated it off. Poor thing was closing in on the shade of a lobster and far clumsier, nearly toppling over on his lumbering path to the tub. I got him to bend his knees and sink his full upper body in the water before filling cups of water from the water jugs I’d purchased for the both of us. I refused to trust drinking water in a new city, a precaution that had saved me more times than I could count regardless of the price of the hotel room. He relaxed in his near fetal position, muscles cooling and redness seemingly growing brighter in contrast with the white porcelain. I made sure the AC unit was running full blast and all the windows were shut tightly just for something to do; having an even mildly injured partner always put my instincts on high alert.

 

“Lana, come back in here,” I scampered back in to see if he needed help, but he held out a hand and pulled me down to sit beside the tub on the floor, rubbing my back in soothing circles and making shushing sounds. “I’m okay, it’s alright.” Now, pushing pheromones to influence anyone was a big no-no in polite society but, in a career as impolite as espionage, it was a rule easily broken especially to offer comfort.

 

I hummed, resting my head on my folded knees as we both allowed our brains to turn off for a while, not quite dozing but definitely allowing the tension to leech out of us before we both roused ourselves enough to get Alec out of the tub and me into it, taking far less time than he had despite washing my hair. By the time I was done, my hair combed and body moisturized by steam and shea butter, Alec was only half dressed and seemingly preoccupied with the deep red on his upper body. I wordlessly left and reappeared with my tube of shea lotion and some aloe vera gel, squeezing some aloe in my lands and slathering it on as gently as I could, paying special care with his face. A shiver ran down his spine with my hands on his neck but he shrugged at my offer to turn the AC down again. After the aloe came the shea applied in equally thick sheets all over the redness. He wrinkled his nose as I smeared it across his face, but otherwise made no complaint for which I was thankful. Unmated alphas can have a chip on their shoulder about omegas tending to them, confusing doting for infantilization, but Alec closed his eyes and seemed to relax further. I handed him a white T shirt, not bothering to ask where it had been when we were going out in the hot South American sun, and put the lotion on the night stand before handing Alec his water again and turning out the lights. We finished our second glasses and passing out for a much needed nap.

 

* * * * * *

 

“You can’t be serious, he’ll kill you,” I snorted. I couldn’t help it, death by a drug lord’s ridiculously coiffed second in command was certainly not how I intended to go out. Alec only became more irate, “Why are you acting as though this is an impossibility? Did you not read his file? He regularly beats his so-called ‘conquests,’” he snarled the word. “The last girl was hospitalized. Did you not see the pictures?”

 

“That won’t happen,” I said as evenly as I could in the face of the very real prospect that I was lying.

 

“You don’t know that! It’s not as though he’s asking for their consent before beating them to within an inch of their lives!” he was crowding in my space now, eye wide and nose flaring. The room didn’t smell like anger though. Alec’s fear, acrid and pungent, could probably be scented down the hall.

 

I was mildly worried his eyes would bug out of his head. Before he could continue yelling I grabbed his shoulders firmly, trying not to aggravate the nearly healed skin, getting his attention and giving myself some space to breath. “We have one shot at what’s in that safe, you know as well as I do that without proof we can’t move forward and we have no idea where those documents will be after tonight. I’m exactly his type, it’ll be an easy mark,” I spoke in near monotone.

 

“How can you be so calm about all this?” he voice cracked on the whisper and I suddenly longed to tell him I wouldn’t go and that we could just forget the whole thing.

 

“Because if I become anything but calm, I will start vomiting in disgust at the very thought, let alone the act. It’s my body, Alec. I’m making this call.” He held my eyes for a moment longer but whatever he saw made his shoulders droop in submission. Silently he took my hand for a moment before squeezing it and leaving me to dress.

 

* * * * * *

 

The door closed with a snick behind me, the only light coming from the bedside lamp to illuminate Alec sitting in the armchair across the room. He was still in his tux from dinner. The clock read 11:00 pm. I was surprised, thinking I had been much longer. It had felt a lot longer.

 

“Q got the documents. He asked me to thank you,” Alec’s whisper barely carried across the small room.

 

I leaned back against the door with a sigh and toed off my shoes but jumped as Alec stood up quickly. He put his arms up in caution and just stared at me, looking in more pain than I felt. But I was too tired to feel much of anything.

 

I cleared my now hoarse and bruised throat, “just gimme a second, yeah?” before disappearing back in the bathroom to turn on the shower, trash the clothes I’d been wearing and scrub every part of my body, hoping to erase any trace of the scent of cologne and cigars that had permeated the air and clogged my throat. Twenty minutes of deep scrubbing and a double washing of my hair, even gargling with mouthwash three times couldn’t erase him completely. I gave up and got dressed, taking the time to put ointment on my scratches and copious bruises. I was inspecting the biggest one and wondering if it was my imagination that it resembled Australia when I realized Alec probably still wanted to shower as well and stepped up the pace a little.

 

I came out to find him in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his usual sleep attire I was realizing, putting the finishing touches on a nest made of his and my clothing on top of the bed. His posture dropped as he sat on the bed and made himself look as nonthreatening as possible, head down and arms supine, not meeting my eyes. I moved without conscious thought stepping between his legs and wrap my arms around his shoulders to bury my face in his neck.

 

“I’m not afraid of you, Alec,” I swore into the collar of his shirt and his arms came up to hold me with such softness that it brought tears to my eyes.

 

“I thought you might still be able to smell him, so I…” I nodded and held him tighter, silently thanking him for the wonderful gift of his friendship as well as his thoughtfulness. He was truly a wonderful human being, despite the infamous rakish reputation he so loved to cultivate. If I spoke, I’d start crying and once that happened it might not stop for days. I could hold off for now, shut the pain away until we got back on British soil safely. We disentangled ourselves and I gave him a pinch on his dimpled chin before crawling over to sprawl on the makeshift nest with a huge sigh of relief. I fell asleep to his hand gently carding through my wet hair and I dreamed of a lullaby I couldn’t remember the next morning.

 

* * * * * *

 

Eight months into my posting as Co-Director of Double 0 Branch I was growing more and more convinced that absolutely no one believed my internal cover, or Eve’s for that matter. Well, maybe Sammy the security guard did, but he didn’t count. The issue was that there just weren’t enough run-ins with the CIA to warrant a full time liaison with them, especially one that was stationed within the MI6 building itself. The problem was solidified when I got word that a contingent of CIA tech personnel would be visiting in three weeks’ time as part of an interagency information sharing initiative. Lonnie was coming, and she could smell my bullshit from three and a half thousand miles away.

 

I’d tried to dissuade her from looking further into it, both subtly and directly, but bless her; she was like a hound dog with a bone when something smelled even remotely fishy. It didn’t take her long to figure out that the money entering my account each month may have been syphoned through CIA money markets, but it sure hell didn’t originated from them. I wasn’t exactly sure how far she had to trace to get back to MI6, but it undoubtedly would and now she was never going to let me off the hook.

 

When fall rolled in so did Avalon Washington with her nerd squad, and the second she entered the building all of MI6 knew it.

 

“You best gimme a hug, girl!” I was a little surprised she managed to contain herself from running up and jumping on me but then we weren’t in her domain. She had however managed to stop all work in said domain with her shout loud enough to wake the dead. I nearly jumped out of my skin and could only shake my head in mild despair with a grin as she weaved her way through Q Branch minions, exuding more extroverted energy than probably any of them had felt in years. Of course most of them hadn’t seen sunlight in years either. Q certainly hadn’t, his pale face blanching further in full view of the oncoming hurricane that was Lonnie. I patted his hand briefly before rising from my seat on the dais and striding over to greet my best friend. She stood with arms akimbo as she made a show of surveying me and tapping her foot.

 

“Eight months and no visit,” she sucked her teeth in faux annoyance making me giggle even harder, “these white people haven’t been feeding you, Jesus girl,” and suddenly we couldn’t contain our giddy laughter. As absolutely fucked as I knew I was once we were alone and she could sink her teeth into me for the roundabout I’d been giving her, it was amazing to see her.

 

“Ugh, I missed you,” I murmured into her shoulder as we embraced, idly brushing a purple box braid out of the way.

 

“Of course you did, surrounded by all these tea soaked fossils. Thought I’d bring you some loving even if I couldn’t bring you some decent empanadas,” she mumbled back.

 

I pulled back and looked at her with all the pain in my heart, “don’t eat the Mexican food here. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not Mexican.”

 

“I hear the curry’s good though.”

 

I nodded emphatically, “We’re getting some tonight.” A throat being cleared behind me interrupted our grinning reunion. I disengaged, leaving my arm around Lonnie’s shoulders as I turned to introduce her to the current contents of the dais; Q, Bond, Eve, and Alec had popped in at some point in the last minute and stolen my seat. He was grinning at the spectacle we made and lounging like a cat while the others had stood. Q greeted Lonnie, shaking her hand with his usual cool efficiency and his mate did the same. Eve was her usual charming self while still maintaining a professional distance that I had yet to master and Alec didn’t even bother. He popped up off the seat and, with his usual boyish enthusiasm, pumped Lonnie’s hand in lieu of what regular people would call a handshake. She seemed charmed and greeted him with the good grace of a Southern belle.

 

Q was quick to extract her, though, and they launched into a conversation the contents of which the rest of us only understood every fifth word. R was good enough to usher the rest of the CIA nerd herd to a few empty stations on the side while Q and Lonnie enveloped themselves in tech talk. Eve was quick to excuse herself while Bond sat back to watch the ensuing discussion with more amusement than his stony features generally allowed. Alec and I looked at each other and shrugged before I headed off to my office and the never-ending mountain of paperwork.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Is this place clean?” I nodded, slightly saddened at how quickly Lonnie felt the need to begin the interrogation. I got up from the table with a sigh, gathering the remnants of the yellow curry we’d ordered. Alec and Sean had left only minutes earlier, the latter a little infatuated with my techie friend, and already she wanted to have this conversation.

 

“I sweep it weekly. The latest was just yesterday,” I confirmed, knowing she meant for more than just dust bunnies. Still relaxed but now much more focused than previously, Lonnie eyed me cautiously. She didn’t look afraid, just alert, like she was over analyzing my expressions and body language as I scrubbed at the remnants of Sean’s plate he’d left to soak. “What do you know, exactly?” I met her eyes for a moment before looking back at my hands.

 

“I know that your income trail doesn’t make sense,” she said after a thoughtful sip of wine. “I know that technically you’re only capacity here is for the Agency, but there aren’t enough jurisdictional disputes to warrant a liaison and it would make much more sense for someone with that job title to be working out of MI5 not MI6. I also know that those things have also occurred to the people working at MI6, given the amount of energy Q put into pumping me for information on you today,” I looked at her sharply. She gave me her patented raised eyebrow as she tapped a black and purple shellac nail on her glass. “I  _know_  a lot of things, but most of them don’t add up. I  _think_  you’ve defected but somehow the Agency just  _let you go_ ,” she swept her hands around to illustrate the ridiculousness of that theory. “Color me a little skeptical of one of our best agents being relegated to glorified desk jockeying for the Brits,” she’d never had occasion to put that edge in her voice with me. I tried hard not to flinch but didn’t quite succeed. I dried my hands and pored myself another glass of Chardonnay as I thought.

 

“When I was offered the posting, I didn’t know,” I took a seat across from her, not quite meeting her eyes. “When I got here suddenly I was informed I’d been dropped from the Agency and my US citizenship had been revoked,” Lonnie breathed in sharply but didn’t interrupt, “I freaked out, but ultimately I decided the job I’d been offered, the good that I’d do would be worth the vulnerability. I never would have gone out for it in a million years, but being ‘independent’ has its perks,” I swirled my glass around.

 

“You were forced into this,” this time the cold edge to her voice wasn’t for me.

 

“Oh, I’m sure I could have refused but…” my voice faded at the looks she gave me. I just shrugged, “it felt right, as terrifying as it was. They weren’t wrong when they said I was perfectly suited to the role. I’m good at this, Lonnie. Maybe better that I was at being an agent. And besides, I still get to go play super spy every once in a while but I’m making a difference. Even if it is as a desk jockey most of time,” I rolled my eyes. She grumbled into her glass but didn’t argue. “What did Q want to know?”

 

“Oh the usual: how and when we met, what you did as an agent, if I’d ever run an op of yours, if you’re single,” I choked on my wine and she laughed before passing me a paper napkin.

 

“You’re fucking with me,” I denied but she shook her head and insisted he had.

 

“It was all done very tactfully, you understand; so British. Though I think that last one had more to do with 006 than his own professional inquiries,” she smirked.

 

“Now you’re really fucking with me.”

 

“And you’re as blind as a fruit bat, dear.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Alec was attractive. Of course I’d known that, I was fairly certain a blind lesbian could tell you he was hot as hell, but I’d never really allowed myself to think about it before and the stress of the better part of the last year had pretty effectively brought my sex drive down to near nothing.  _Damn Lonnie and her never-ending perceptiveness._ Now it was all I could do to keep my eyes off him whenever he entered the room. Thank fuck I was on suppressants or my hormones would have been all over the place because of a stupid crush.  _A crush! I’m a grown ass woman._

 

It didn’t help that I was suddenly hyper aware of how often he touched me or smiled at me. And  _God_ the way he smelled should have been illegal. When had this happened? And how the hell had Lonnie sniffed out in twenty-four hours a crush that looking back had been building for months; probably since the first night we met, but definitely since Argentina. I would never stop kicking myself for spending a week and a half in the same hotel room as him and not enjoying the view. And _what_ a view it was. I caught myself stopping to stare at him multiple times before I could start salivating and Bond definitely caught me once, sending me a jaunty grin. I politely smiled at him in an unaffected manner but couldn’t exactly stop the heat that flooded my face.

 

One week into Lonnie’s visit and I was driving myself nuts. Twice I caught myself having lasciviously detailed fantasies about the poor man while he was in the room, one so bad I had to make a walk of shame to the gym locker room and change my underwear. By day twelve I was itching for a fight and Lonnie thought the whole thing was hilariously dramatic. She’d been nosy enough to slip into MI6 medical files and had quite proudly informed me that Alec and I were a 96% match in biological compatibility.

 

“That’s quite impressive, really. I don’t know that you’ll ever find better,” she said through a mouthful of croissant one morning.

 

I groaned into my coffee, “Oh yes, ‘Oh Alec! Our babies would have healthy immune systems!’ Gee isn’t that the greatest of pick-up lines,” I savagely tore at my own pastry.

 

“Hey don’t take it out on your poor breakfast! You could just tell him. Or better yet don’t say anything, just pull him into your office and have your way with him...oh my god you’re thinking about it!” she cackled and I bared my teeth at her.

 

“There’s an inherent power imbalance, Lonnie, even if he doesn’t know it.” She couldn’t argue. She suggested I go punch something and then I couldn’t argue.

 

The gym was empty as it usually was around 14:00 except for, as of course my luck would have it, the object of my affections at the heavy bag.  _And he had to work out shirtless._  I stopped in the doorway to stare, admiring him less sexually and more aesthetically. He was the typical alpha, tall and broad-shouldered with dense bones, but there was something almost feline in him. With his golden halo of hair and prominent features I could almost imagine him being a lion in another life.

 

“A picture would last longer,” he said suddenly and I realized I hadn’t been so quiet coming in. He shot me a grin and I laughed him off as I usually did, thinking of an excuse.

 

“I just realized I’ve never actually seen you fight. Not in real life anyway,” I lied easily, walking past him to the treadmills on the back wall and studiously ignoring the way his smelled permeated that corner of the studio.

 

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you fight either,” he said with a thoughtful tone.

 

“You will tonight,” I laughed at his surprised expression. “There’s a cage fight tonight at Diesel. All of Double-O Division is invited. You haven’t heard about this? Even Q’s being dragged along,” he was still staring blankly.

 

“…and you’re competing?”

 

“Should I be offended at your surprise?”

 

“Fuck off, I know you can handle yourself,” he scoffed and I chortled while setting down my bag and rummaging around for my headphones. In my week and a half of mild obsession over him I’d nearly forgotten how good of friends we were when my hormones could control themselves. “I’ll be there. I have a flight tomorrow morning anyway, might as well stay up and sleep on the plane,” he shrugged. I’d forgotten his mission to Istanbul the next day.

 

“That’s only a four hour flight,” I argued, anxiety suddenly kicking in at the thought he wasn’t taking care of himself.  _God, how did I ever confuse this for maternal instincts?_  He shrugged and just insisted he’d crash at the hotel before starting his surveillance. I grumbled but didn’t fight him, not trusting myself to keep from fussing. I started my run, somehow managing to zone out the fact that the man I wanted to climb like a tree was in the same room, and thought about little other than matching my strides to the beat of my workout playlist for a good ten minutes before I smelled something I hadn’t before.

 

A faintly arousing musk in the air made me panic for a second before I realized it wasn’t me. A quick glance in the mirrored wall to my right confirmed that no one else had entered the gym, but Alec was still at the punching bag. With my headphones on I hadn’t heard him stop punching, but now in my surreptitious glance to the side I realized he had stopped doing much of anything except looking at me. My heart rate picked up in a way that had nothing to do with my pace, and I slowed my speed, distinctly thankful that my back was to him. My change in pace did snap him out of it, however, which I silently cursed. The knowledge that he looked at me the same way I did at him was endlessly empowering though. I loved it, and even the brief glance of his slack jawed stare in the mirror had me addicted.

 

I had a cruel thought, and almost didn’t go through with it until I took off my headphones and he abruptly started in on the bag with renewed vigor. I studiously ignored him, instead going over to the yoga mats and rolling out one that was still in his direct line of sight. I put my headphones back in but didn’t turn the music back on. It took by my estimation a good thirty seconds before the sounding of punching became softer, though he did try valiantly till about the two minute mark when he stopped all together. One particularly deep stretch made me groan and the heady smell in the room spiked noticeably and then again when I moved into downward dog pose. I took pity on him after a while and sat up with a final stretch, calmly rolling up my mat and pulling out my earbuds to prompt his return to reality.

 

With a jaunty wave and a “see you tonight,” I exited, thrilled by the rough crack in his voice as he called good-bye after me. If that wasn’t confirmation that the attraction was mutual, I didn’t know what was.

 

I spent the rest of my afternoon looking into the MI6 guidelines on fraternization within the workplace. Finally I just bucked up the courage to ask Eve for her thoughts. She was surprisingly forthcoming; apparently she and 008 had been together almost as long as he’d been with MI6 and had just never bother to officially register it with internal affairs. On the books, neither of us were direct superiors to anyone in MI6. IA might have seen any reports of their romantic relationship as superfluous at best and suspicious at worst.

 

“M and I have always had an understanding that in the event Cebo were in the field and a judgment call need be made, it would not be by me. The two of you would rightly consider me unfit for duty for the time being and I would be discounted from the chain of command until you saw fit to reinstate me. The same could be done for you and 006 if you wish,” we’d been speaking in hypotheticals until then and I certainly hadn’t mentioned him by name, but it didn’t exactly surprise me that she already knew. Despite my shower, I hadn’t washed my hair and it still slightly smelled of him. I probably usually did given how often he and Sean came over.

 

I nodded, smiling a little guiltily; “I think that’d be best as he’s leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll update you if need be of course, but I think that was all I needed to know.” We said our good-byes and I left feeling lighter than I had in a week.

 

* * * * * *

 

002 was on my last damn nerve. I’d known he was an egotistical son of a bitch after my first experience watching him in the field, but my personal dislike for him was growing steadily with every minute interaction and mission report. His disregard for anyone who wasn’t an alpha and white was consistent and I was more than a little put out that M and Eve had overruled me six weeks prior to keep him on despite his ongoing refusal to respect Q’s authority. His last three missions had gone poorly all due to his god complex and tonight was a perfect example.

 

Anyone who ever starts mouthing off loudly that MMA rules, few and basic as they are, are too limiting should be categorically shot in my worldview. Alec had called across the gym that it wasn’t the UFC’s fault 002 had no imagination or creativity. I was going to enjoy watching him get his ass beaten into the mat.

 

A surprising number of people turned up, both MI6 and the CIA techie squads rolled up in their sweats, despite most of the techie’s not knowing a hook from an upper cut, bless them. I think they just wanted to get into the spirit of things. A contingent of CIA spooks showed up as well; the interagency intellectual swapping included fighting techniques and training tactics, so that’s what the Double 0s and other MI6 agents had been doing in their down time between missions. Sean had been having a ball, or so I heard via Alec. One of the agents in particular caught my notice; I’d seen him on the list of attendees, but hadn’t had a chance to catch him.

 

“McGregor!” I called, bounding over to say hello to the fellow omega, “how have you been, sir?”

 

“Oh aging,” he laughed, “but I’m well. I’d heard you were our liaison here but couldn’t quite believe it. I couldn’t imagine you leaving the field for anything.” I could help but laugh at my instructor’s constipated expression.

 

“I still go out now and then, but I like making sure everybody’s playing nice. It suits me,” he snorted but didn’t argue. He cuffed me gently on the head and pulled me into a rough hug.

 

 

I hadn’t called him when I’d been offered the job. I’d thought about it and almost gone through with it a few times, but I’d known he would adamantly tell me to turn down the offer, argue that once I got out of the field I’d get gun shy and never get back out. I heard the resignation in his voice, there weren’t many omegas in the field and trailblazers like him, twenty years my senior, were always looking for newcomers to shake things up. He’d probably blown a gasket when he’d found out I’d taken a desk job so early in my career.

 

“Enjoy the fights! I’ll catch you later,” I walked away sorry I couldn’t tell him that one of his protégés was heading one of the most prestigious espionage divisions in the world. Realizing he’d probably never know made my heart hurt a little.

 

“Who was that? He’s one of ours right?” Lonnie asked from the bench between Sean and Alec. Q and Bond has taken up residence on the bench as well though Q was still on his tablet and 007 was looking rather annoyed by his mate’s lack of attentiveness. I nodded.

 

“Uziah McGregor,” I said by way of explanation and she immediately sat up straighter and peered curiously at him.

 

“I didn’t know anyone else from O Division was here,” she said more to herself, though everyone on the bench heard her and was now looking over with marked interest. I laughed at their lack of subtlety given our line of work.

 

“I think he’s the only one,” I assured her.

 

“And you,” I shot her a look, but everyone else had already heard and were now looking at me with a range of confusion. Well, Q wasn’t looking anywhere but his tablet screen, but everyone else was staring at me. _Guess that one wasn’t in the dossiers._ I shot Lonnie another look, but she just shrugged not-so-guiltily. I took my seat between her and Alec without another word, studiously ignoring his look.

 

The first three fights were great. We were apparently keeping to three rounds each, which made sense because of the pure number of competitors that had turned up. Five minutes each round put us at about forty-five minutes before 002 was up and I knew he was going to cheat before the match even began. His opponent was a non-Double 0 beta, an all-around decent fighter but a little slow and much shorter than 002. We weren’t going by weight class, it being one of the only MMA restrictions that had been removed since we all had to regularly fight opponents twice our size on the job. It was a pretty evenly matched fight in the beginning, but as soon as 002 got the beta on the ground he started playing dirty. Elbowing him in the throat and then the groin in a position that the ref couldn’t see and though we shouted from the peanut gallery about it the ref didn’t call it. The poor little beta never really recovered and by round three he tapped out from an arm bar exhausted and obviously wanting some ice packs for his throat and crotch. I sat disgusted with the rest of the room while 002 looked like the cat that got the cream with the rest of his mates all patting him on the back and called him a champ.

 

Alec was up soon after, paired against 0010. I watched with open fascination the play of muscles across his back and arms as he threw a punch or wrestled her to the ground. I found myself wondering with more than a little jealousy what it must feel like to be trapped under his sweating body with his breath in her ear. Lonnie bumped my shoulder with her enthusiastic clapping and I was snapped out of it to watch him win, but only just. Both alphas clasped each other’s forearms in friendship and when he came back to sit down on the bench I found myself touching his shoulder in congratulations and pressing my hand to his face gingerly as I cringed at his bruised cheek. He looked at me a long moment before turning back to the mat.

 

A few more fights went by and suddenly I was up, marching over to pick my opponent’s name out of the jar. I felt a crumpled piece of paper and hoped against hope.

 

“002,” I proclaimed loudly with a wicked smile, “we’re up.” I wasn’t sure how his name had made it back into the bowl but didn’t think anyone was going to argue with the look of maniacal glee on my face.

 

Putting on my gloves I heard Lonnie’s easily identifiable wild cackle and an excited whisper of “fuck him up, baby!  _Fuck him up!_ ” I allowed myself one glance at her, excited face bracketed by Sean and Alec’s tense ones. I looked back at my gloves as I finished putting them on and quieted my brain.

 

Omega instincts were an often disregarded thing. We were usually the smallest and softest with curves and sweetest smell. We didn’t broadcast power or aggression and we didn’t cultivate fear. That is, until you threatened our loved ones. The stories of omegas turning into feral beasts to protect their children were few and far between and so believed to be exaggerated, but, if anything, they had been downplayed through history to protect precious alpha egos. An omega’s one physical supremacy over an alpha or beta was our ability to heal, quadruple the rate in fact. We could bounce back from almost anything and an omega trained to push right up to the feral line was an omega that couldn’t feel pain. If winning this fight and shoving this little shit’s face into the mat was the only thing I got out of two years of intense meditation and absolutely brutal physical stress in O Division, it would be _well_ worth it.

 

I breathed and let my autonomic responses take over; my pupils dilating, heart rate raised, and breathing deepening to accommodate my command with the oncoming rush of adrenaline. My vision narrowed to my target, and the warm tingle of goose bumps washed over my scalp and then down my back and each limb. There was nothing except my opponent and me; no fear, no pain, no anxiety. There was only the nameless target. They rushed me and my muscles relaxed to allow me to fully slip under and around them, grabbing an arm and wrenching it back in its socket before he could turn around. The opponent’s shoulder was injured, probably dislocated, making the arm unusable; this was ideal. They swung wildly in anger with his uninjured limb but I slipped away from them again, jumped on their shoulders and flipped us both forward to land in an arm bar and the ref called it after a few seconds of my opponent’s struggling.

 

One round over in less than a minute, I could vaguely hear the hooting and shouting from outside the mat but it was distant and muffled. I was untroubled; the spectators weren’t threats, but this alpha was. I stared at them blankly, keeping absolute conscious control over every muscle. I analyzing them fully. Their left arm was the injured one, unfortunate for them given that they seemed to be right handed. The opponent favored the right side slightly, consistently leading with it. Their last fight had proven that they were not fast but powerful; punches landing harder than most alphas that size. When they came at me again I easily ducked their right arm, punching the exposed kidneys and dropping to sweep both legs. I was on my feet quickly though and danced out if the way of those long legs, jumping backs several feet before dodging back in to catch and inflame the injured shoulder before moving out of the way again and again. They couldn’t catch me or get back up before the five-minute mark, and the second round was over too.

 

The third round my opponent was more cautious, testing my defenses and surging forward to get in a few jabs, most of which I evaded easily. This alpha had a longer reach than I did, but he was only operating with one working side and when a left power jab meant for my face came I took advantage, dodging to the right and taking hold of their dominant wrist. A swift elbow to the nose disoriented them and then I was on them, using the injured shoulder and other arm as leverage as I rammed my knee into the exposed belly over and over again till they fell weakly to the ground with a cry that was more air than sound. My opponent was done. We all knew it, the crowd going wild, but they still tried to get back up. I stood motionlessly and stared, waiting to see what the threat would do next. They made one more go for me, stumbling weakness to their feet and shaking their head before lurching forward with a roar. I backhanded the alpha, hard enough to break a few bones in my hand, but it sent them careening to the ground and blinking stupidly up at the ceiling just as the buzzer sounded.

 

 

 

I blinked and the world came back into focus.

 

The onlookers had lost their shit. Lonnie and Sean were falling over each other laughing with tomato red faces, Bond had the biggest grin I’d ever seen from him as he clapped, Q had actually put down his tablet to grace me with a crooked smile, and Alec looked…Alec looked worshipful. It was the only word I could use to describe the expression of exaltation and pride and lust that didn’t taper off for a solid minute as I was patted on the back and told I was an avenging angel, by Lonnie of course. I turned to Alec finally and that expression was still there, shining in his eyes as he grabbed me and heaved me into a bear hug as I laughed. His loud throaty laugh and vice like grip around my middle was almost heaven.

 

Several more fights went on but I didn’t pay much attention to any of them with Alec’s thigh pressed up against me like it was. Eventually we made our way to the nearest pub, I made an attempt to separate myself from him and allow him physical space if he wanted it, but soon I found him next to me again with his hand floating at my lower back. He ushered me into the seat next to his and I hoped the redness in my face could be contributed to the intense warmth of the pub and the workout. Based on Bond’s smirk I gathered not.

 

Alec got us pints and returned with McGregor who I introduced to the table and chatted with for a while about his husband, another big shot in the CIA but whom I’d never met, until 0012 walked up. We’d only spoken a few times, but he seemed like a really nice person and was certainly an amazingly skilled coworker.

 

“You and I need to have a conversation about how you learned to do that,” he said after we congratulated each other on our respective wins. I gestured to McGregor, who was chattering away with Sean.

 

“He was my instructor at the Farm, you’d do better asking him. I’m a decent pupil, but a terrible teacher,” I laughed, catching Uziah’s attention to introduce the two. They launched into conversation, Sean and several other younger agents seeming content to just listen and maybe swoon just a little. I caught sight of the clock behind the bar and startled, turning to Alec, “oh my God, what time is your flight?”

 

He only shrugged, “5:30, I have time, though I should probably kip a bit before I go,” he got up and I followed him towards the front of the bar, saying our good-byes as we went. “You know you don’t have to come, you deserve a night to celebrate,” he offered but I was done for the night anyway.

 

We caught a cab back to Warwick Square and he walked me to my door first, a sweet gesture that he’d done before but held new meaning now. We locked eyes and I suddenly didn’t quite know what to say but we were saved from an awkwardly sexually charged good-bye by a crash from inside my flat.

 

On high alert, we agreed he’d take the front and I’d take the back door. I snuck around and through his garden and into mine before texting him a go. I entered the porch door and then the back of the house only to find the culprit sitting on my kitchen floor licking itself. I stared at the orange cat and it stared back at me before ultimately finding me unworthy of its attention and returning to cleaning itself. Alec found me staring in mild disgust at the little interloper. I looked at him and he looked at me.

 

“You don’t have a cat.”

 

“I do not have a cat,” I confirmed. I fought a smile and lost. He sputtered and lost it, reaching for the kitchen counter to stay upright against his silent laughter while I made my way carefully across the glass-covered floor. “I have no idea how it got in, though. It’s not like it’s heavy enough to break the window,” I gestured to the window over the sink that had been smashed. He recovered quickly and nodded thoughtfully as well.

 

“Stay at my place tonight,” I paused and thought about arguing for a second before realizing if there had been an intruder they may have hidden somewhere in the house. I couldn’t smell anyone, but that didn’t mean much in the age of masking deodorants and scent suppressing pills. Criminals had gotten smarter than biology, unfortunately.

 

I sighed in annoyance but nodded and we went back out and around the jump the fence into his yard. I noticed the little sensors on the ground of his garden and wondered at their not going off earlier when I ran through it before I saw the little bracelet Alec worn blinking; a proximity sensor of some sort? I really was going to have to get an alarm system. As it was, he’d probably be holding the Intruder Incident, as he was already calling it, over me for a while. He opened the door and waved me in. I’d never actually been in his house, despite the months of friendship, I suddenly realized. The architecture was a mirror image of my place, but he’d managed to make his much more of a home than I had. Of course, he’d had more time.

 

As we walked through I realized his talk of Stravinsky months ago really hadn’t been idle. He  _loved_  music. I’d know it in a conceptual way; last week he’d been bugging Bond to listen to some obscure classical quartets he’d discovered that re-contextualized Haydn and months ago he’d been constantly listening to Kendrick Lamar while running. When Sean had  _dared_  call him just another rapper he laid out for him why he not only  _deserved_  his Pulitzer Prize but in fact should have gotten it two years earlier for To Pimp A Butterfly. His taste varied from activity to activity, but he was constantly listening. Seeing the physical proof of his love of the art form was different though, somehow more intimate.

 

The built-in bookshelf that for me showcased my love of literature was practically an exhibit on the history of music. Hundreds and hundreds of records and CDs lined the shelves, books on sound engineering and music history littered throughout. A collection of turntables and stereo equipment were on another shelving unit to the side, ranging from antiques missing a few obvious parts to top of the line current models. In a variety of other baskets sat parts for what looked like every kind of electronic device under the sun. He had a nice speaker system from the looks of it; surround sound speakers hanging from the ceiling. I turned to look at him in the doorway, absolutely amazed, and caught a shadow of embarrassment cross his features.

 

He cleared his throat, “The, ugh, the speakers go all the way around the house…so you can listen to it anywhere…” he drifted off. I nodded.

 

“I like it,” I assured him quickly in a whisper before clearing my throat, “it’s very you.”  _And I like you._  His shoulders seemed to rise slightly at my words.

 

“Um, I didn’t convert the second bedroom to an office like you did, so that’s where I was going to put you,” I should not have found his awkwardness so adorable, but  _God_  did I.

 

He led me upstairs and told me which one was the bathroom and the spare bedroom, like I didn’t live every day in almost this exactly layout. He gave me a towel and spare sleeping shirt and sweatpants of his to use and left me to have a moment in the bathroom to shower and change. If I’d thought hugging him tonight had been heaven, then washing with his soap and getting into clothes that smelled like him was nirvana. I was tempted to touch myself in his shower, imagining him doing the same countless times before, but the smell would have been insanely obvious. Pervert I may be, but more than wanting to get in Alec’s pants, I  _liked_  him. He was kind and funny and considerate and a good fucking person and I was not stupid enough to fuck this up just for some instant gratification. So I put my big girl panties on and got dressed. Well technically I wasn’t wearing underwear. I was in Alec’s house, about to sleep in his clothes without underwear on…. _Christ on a cracker, how am I gonna survive tonight?_  I wiped the mirror down to apply some lotion I’d had in my purse when I say my reflection for the first time. 002 had really done a number on my torso, despite my dodging most of his strikes and they were starting to ache.

 

I held up the sweatpants on my hips as I shuffled down the hallway to knock on his bedroom door. A muffled curse and scrambling had me backing away from the door in confusion. Alec appeared with just sweatpants and a t-shirt on, hair mused and the faint smell of arousal from the room made me wonder if he  _had_  been touching himself. The thought made my mouth water.

 

“Sorry, do you have something like Neosporin?” I asked, feeling a little bad. He did have to get up for a flight in a few hours and here I was hanging out in his house.

 

“Oh, of course, one moment,” he said in that same nervous tone. I’d probably be nervous too if the person I was masturbating about made an appearance. Of course that  _had_  kind of happened a few times around the office when I’d been fantasizing about him, so turnabout was fair. I followed him back into the bathroom and continued examining the few hits 002 had scored under the florescent lights. He really did hit hard, one in particular on my collarbone had broken skin.

 

They weren’t bad and really I just needed some cream but Alec seemed on a mission to nurse me back to health. Out of the cupboard came cotton pads and iodine and hydrogen peroxide and he utilized all of them before finally the Neosporin I’d suggested. I couldn’t help the goofy smile I was sure was on my face.

 

“I called Q,” he said suddenly, “about the break in,” like I couldn’t have guessed.

 

“I’m honestly just impressed you’ve managed to suppress all the cat burglar jokes,” he rolled his eyes.

 

“I think you already know I will never let you forget the moment you almost shot a cat as it licked its arse,” he laughed before we lapsed back into a tense silence.

 

Leaning back on the counter and watching him work with a little frown of concentration, his tongue occasionally poking out from between his lips as he worked with single-mindedness on my shoulder, was the cutest thing I’d seen to date. Whether I was biting my lip to keep from giggling or licking his lips, I couldn’t decide. With a flourish he removed the back of the bandage, placed it over the bruised skin with care and sealed it with a kiss to my collarbone.

 

He froze an inch away from my skin like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. I couldn’t either but I was thanking God and any other deity that would listen that he had. He pulled back slightly, like he was going to make a run for it, but I turned my head so that my lips and cheek touched the stubble on his.

 

I dragged my lips up to his ear, incredibly gratified to hear his quiet inhale and reveling in the feel of the roughness on my lips, and whispered in a sigh, “do that again.” He only paused for a moment. His arms came around me slowly, as if I’d change my mind, as he ducked his head back down to kiss my clavicle. I inhaled sharply at the feeling of his lips on my skin slowly savoring each spot on my neck and moving up kiss by kiss achingly slow. He could surely hear my breathing, the breathy little stuttered sighs and the shudders that passed down my spine when he started running his hands gently across the back of my ribcage and down to my lower back. Slowly, methodically he made his way to the corner of my mouth and I was practically choking for it when he suddenly diverted to my other cheek and I let out a massive lung-full of air.

 

“Oh you absolute fucker,” the warm breath of his laugh hit my ear and the shaking in my knees got worse, my arms on the counter behind me suddenly giving out. He simply lifted me with ease to sit on the counter and continue his torturous exploration. I wrapped my arms around, pushing my chest up against him and pulling his hips closer to mine.

 

After making it all the way around from cheek to cheek, he pressed his lips under my ear and murmured, “This is alright?”

 

I fought for control of my tongue before answering, “if you don’t already know the answer to that, I’m going to request M sends you back to basic training,” I choked out. He bit me just under my ear in retaliation and I couldn’t control the sudden jerk my hips gave into his. He groaned a laugh as I just focused on breathing as much of his smell in as possible.

 

“I meant,” he pulled away slightly, “as my commanding officer,” he gave me a pointed look. I blinked for a moment before throwing my head back with a groan of deep resignation, cut off by a whine when he licked a broad stroke up my neck and the accompanying shudder was the most intense yet.

 

“Does  _anyone_  not know?” I sighed in breathless exasperation as he rested his cheek against mine.

 

“Well, you do work with spies, love. Being found out does tend to come with the territory,” he mumbled a laugh into my skin.

 

All I could do was grumble as he began kissing the other ear, “yes well, I talked to my peers…I talked to them today and…oh God please don’t stop,” I begged as soon as his hand found its way into my hair and pulled while he gently bit the lobe of my ear and pulled ever so slightly. I panted, my thighs squeezing and hands fisting in his shirt. “I talked to them, they said it’s fine, please stop asking me complicated question and for fuck’s sake kiss me already!” I cried out as he finally let go of my ear.

 

“Yes ma’am,” I heard the smugness in his voice, but didn’t care because he gave me what I wanted. One sweet kiss, so delicious I felt it in my toes. We separated for a moment and I battled with my eyelids to open, but it was so worth the fight. He was looking at me like a man in love. I thought I would cry and when he whispered that he adored me a small knot in my chest released, relief that this wasn’t casual for him either. He gave me a few small, sipping kisses before burying his hands in my hair and coaxing my mouth open with his tongue. I moaned loudly when his hips jogged forward of their own accord and I sucked his tongue to see if I could make it happen again.

 

“I thought I was going to make you come from kissing your neck alone,” he laughed breathlessly as I started doing the same to him, tracing the Adam’s apple and tendons that fascinated me so much the last few months with my tongue.

 

“You almost made me come twice today without even being in the room,” he made a vaguely inquisitive sound but couldn’t seem to think of his question with my fingers in his hair and my teeth now pulling on his earlobe. “Do you want me to tell you about it?” He nodded his head emphatically, eyes still closed and swallowing hard. I grinned, “the first time was in the gym,” his eyes opened wide with shock before closing with a shudder as I ground our hips together again. “Did you know what you were doing to me, baby? Realizing you’d be watching my ass as I ran? I could smell you across the room and I knew how hard you were for me, just like you are now.” I didn’t know where all this was coming from, but the look of rapture on Alec’s face was reason enough to keep going. “What were you thinking, hmm? What were you thinking when I stretched for you with my ass up in the air?”

 

“Fucking hell,” he shuddered hard and his jaw dropped open as I reached between us and palmed him through his sweatpants. For a second I thought I’d made him come from just that but with a stuttering gasp, he picked me up off the counter and put me on my feet facing the mirror before bending me over. With a gasp I went, pressing my sensitive chest again the cool marble and keeping myself upright on unsteady legs. He bent over, chest against my back and arm bracketing me on the counter as he whispered, “I was thinking about you.” I shook harder. “I was thinking about this,” he grabbed both ass cheeks in a rough grasp making my buck back into him hissing, “I was thinking about spanking it, seeing how red I could make it,” his deep voice had gotten even lower, almost to a growl. “You want that, love?” I couldn’t form words and only nodded and gave a high whine at the feeling of him grinding against my ass. He grinned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek that made me laugh and kissed me once again on the lips before descending from view.

 

The shock of cooling air on my lower half made me gasp but I lost all breath when Alec groaned once, long and low as he got his first look between my thighs. He barely touched me for a moment; just lifting my bottom for his viewing pleasure and I heard a deep inhale that had me squirming before a long lick into me made me spasm and him groan again.

 

“You taste fucking incredible, Lana, just like how you smell. Do I always make you this wet?” he sounded more in wonder, like the question was rhetorical, but I wanted him to know.

 

“Yes,” he gave my left cheek a small kiss at the admission, “I’ve had to change underwear halfway through work multiple times,” I divulged further with a laugh. He bit the other cheek gently, pulling the skin, before standing and seeming to deliberate what exactly to do with me. I couldn’t help but wiggle my ass a little to speed up his thinking process and he laughed, cupping each cheek for a moment before letting go and standing up. I whined a little in disappointment that I wouldn’t get to come on his face, but he stepped to my side, putting his hand next to mine on the counter and bending to meet my eyes.

 

“I promise I’ll like whatever you’re about to do,” I quickly interjected and he grinned in return, kissing me and taking my left hand in his on the counter. His right hand had migrated to lightly stroking me, as he looked into my eyes with such intensity I couldn’t look away.

 

“Tell me,” I blinked dumbly at him for a moment and he smiled a little. “Tell me about all the work place fantasies you’ve had about me. Where were you the first time you got so wet you had to change, hmm?” he kissed my hand, paying attention to each knuckle.

 

“I…I was in my office and you’d just left and the whole room smelled like y-,” I was cut off by a sharp smack to my left cheek, and Alec resumed the petting motion he’d been doing previously. He kissed my knuckles once as he watched my face carefully with an innocent look.

 

“Tell me if it gets too much,” I bobbed my head with a swallow and just continued talking, earning me another smile.

 

“I was in my office, and you’d just left and I was wondering what it would feel like to have you on your knees under my desk and make me come on your face-oh god!” another smack rang out and Alec inspected his work with satisfaction before returning to meet my gaze and egg me on with kisses to my shoulder. “And I was so wet that I just rubbed against the chair till I c-oh Alec please don’t stop.” I begged and cried as I relived all my fantasies about illicit workplace encounters while he steadily made my ass bright red. I was clenching his hand by now, our fingers interlocked on the counter, sure the tension couldn’t continue when I felt a tightening low in my stomach, “oh my god Alec, I’m gonna come,” I gasped after a particularly hard underhanded strike. He looked back to my face in fascination and told me to keep talking as he kissed our joined hands and bit into the meat of my shoulder. I moved on to my favorite fantasy, “having you fuck me with your fingers multiple times through-oh!...throughout the day. Not enough to come, but enough to keep me wet and desperate and... and then sneaking into Q Branch…late at night when nobody’s there-oh god…and…having you fuck my mouth hard, feeling you all the way in the back of my throat…oh my God Alec don’t stop,” his nose flared as I became wetter, both of us imagining it.

 

“But you wouldn’t come?” he asked in the deepest voice, eyes boring into mine and hypnotizing me. I shook my head.

 

“You leave me wanting…finger me in the elevator again…make us stop somewhere and talk to someone just to see me squirm…not touch me in the car but make me suck you again as you drive till I’m covered in your cum, my face, my tits…make me beg,” his strikes were getting harder but I was still the one in control of this little fantasy.

 

“How many times do I put my cum on you, darling hmm?” he was breathing hard and looked wrecked, though I hadn’t touched him in minutes.

 

“You come down my throat again in the car, so that’s twice-oh god do that again-yes! You come down my throat twice and we get inside and you strip me naked on the bed before fucking my throat again but this time you let yourself pop a knot. Would you let me suck your knot, baby?” his answering whine and flushed cheeks were accompanied with the hardest slap yet and I knew I’d come any second. “You let me lick you clean before you fuck me into the mattress, before you bite my neck-oh fuck!” and with the next strike and groan from him I came, shaking apart. He held me by the waist and kept me upright as my knees collapsed. I shook and cursed and felt the best orgasm of my life ripple through to my limbs and leave them impossibly relaxed.

 

Once the hardest of the tremors had passed, Alec pulled me gently up into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck and gently shushed me by running his arms firmly up and down my back. Occasionally he’d run his hands down over my ass again and more aftershocks would leave me gasping, loose limbed and slack jawed.

 

I realized belatedly that he was talking, “Mine. My perfect girl, you’re so beautiful. God, I adore you,” and on and on, the praise making me purr and rub against him. He’d called me his, and I couldn’t disagree. I was beyond words, using what little control of my limbs I had to wrestle off my shirt and then his, moaning at the feeling of our skin meeting for the first time. The steam from my shower had cooled but I couldn’t help keeping us in the bathroom to see his body with the better light. Scars littered the skin of his chest and stomach, which had a pleasant softness to it over the hard abs underneath. He did much the same to me, nuzzling at my newly received bruises and growling slightly. I imagined he’d be resenting 002 for a while for those. I felt a little of that aggression myself, examining the scratches 0010 had given him in their fight. I couldn’t help the narrow eyed hiss that left me at the thought of her being under him earlier tonight. “Mine,” he repeated, “and I’m yours.” He gently rocked us, basking in the feeling of each other with soft kisses and softer hands caressing.

 

“Alec,” he hummed, I could see him in the mirror with his head resting on top of mine and eyes closed. If he hadn’t been gently swaying us you could have convinced me he had fallen asleep standing up. Keeping my arms wrapped around him, I leaned back slightly to look in his eyes, “take me to bed?” I asked. He gave me a beatific smile and I wondered whatever I’d done in a past life to deserve this moment.

 

Alec had big hands, callused and warm, one spanned my lower back and the other held mine as we wandered into the bedroom, kissing and laughing and utterly unable to keep our hands off of each other for a single second.

 

We made love on our sides, facing each other and taking in each other’s breath. His thighs and belly were so soft, covered in the same downy blond hair as his head; I couldn’t seem to stop touching him. I sucked marks on the inside of his thighs and up onto his chest with a methodical precision. He was  _mine_  and anyone so privileged to see him in any state of undress would know it. He neck was covered in little love bites, bruises that wouldn’t heal for days and he sighed with satisfaction as I rubbed us together. His pants had long since been shucked to the bedroom floor and the friction of his frenulum against my clit was delicious, eliciting a moan from us both. He took control after that. His left arm curled under my head and around our shoulder and his right guiding him inside me and then pressing us together at the small of my back.

 

I thought I’d jump out of my skin when he bottomed out, no longer able to do anything but breathe as he ground our pelvises together. Grinding turned to thrusting and thrusting turned to pounding and I felt the catch of his knot, hips stuttering after it desperately. He caught my increasingly loud keens with his mouth, Alec’s stream of curses and moans only interrupted by our lips meeting over and over.

 

“Fuck Lana-fuck I want to come in you,” I nodded frantically, wrapping my leg around his hips tighter to dig my heel into his ass with each thrust into me. I thought my brain would melt with the heat. His shouts got louder and I pulled back slightly, wanting to see his expression. He looked animalistic, more lion than man and I almost didn’t notice the ripple of orgasm that shuttered through me in my fascination. His knot slipped inside me and on his next thrust we were tied together, stretching me even more and I came again around him. He grabbed me by my hair, pulling my neck back to expose my throat to him and lunged forward. I thought he was going to bite me; break the skin and make me his. He growled in frustration at the last moment and simply kissed hard on the spot at my shoulder that would have bonded us and he came. I pulled him to me, holding him to my breast as we both shook with exhaustion and pleasure.

 

It took me a second to recognize the shaking of his chest, “are you laughing?” I was too dazed to be anything more than confused.

 

“Holy fuck that was just…Christ,” he laughed and then groaned in the sweetest way when his laughter tugged at his anchoring in me and he shot a spurt of come inside me again. I jumped, unexpectedly loving the feeling of him coming when I wasn’t preoccupied with my own orgasm. I rolled my hips and squeezed down only to watch in elation as he shook and cursed and another spurt of hot cum filled me. The twitching of his cock while still in me was addictive as I watched his forehead crunch and his mouth go slack in closed-eyed ecstasy.

 

“That was cruel,” he panted a laugh as we lay together and I hid my smile in his hair.

 

“I would apologize but…”

 

“Oh hush, you’re not sorry,” he grinned and ducked to kiss my neck again. “You have no idea how much I wanted to bite you,” he admitted quietly, not meeting my eyes as he pressed our cheeks together.

 

I sighed, “Probably as much as I wanted you to,” I said just as quietly. He did look in my eyes then, a questioning look like he was waiting for a punch line. I just looked back, not knowing what else I could say. It was ridiculous but true. I wanted him to seal us together for all the world to see. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of the room and dropped his head to the pillow with a groan.

 

“I never want to leave this bed,” he said with so much regret as he scrubbed his eyes. I hummed, and suggested we set an alarm but unfortunately both his phone and alarm clock were on the nightstand several feet away. Our rolling with my legs clamped around his waist led to two more orgasms before he could reach his phone with a panting wheeze. I tried to laugh but I wound up panting as I lay spread eagle on top of him. We dozed until I felt his knot starting to soften and suddenly had the urge to see it. I pushed up to be seated on his lap, pulling a groan from him at the sudden move. “I don’t think I can go again, beautiful,” his sleep muffled voice turned me on to an embarrassing degree and I knew he felt the gush of wetness from his smile.

 

My sleep-addled brain had an idea however, and as soon as I pulled up slightly and reached behind me to massage along his perineum he was leaning forward to watch. I leaned back slightly for the best view possible as I gripped the base of his cock and pulled him out slowly. With a gasp from both of us his knot popped out along was a flood of cum. I very much had his attention now; his breathing picking back up and arms coming to grip my waist as he thrust himself back up into me. The smile he had on his face when my eyes rolled back in my head should have been illegal. He pulled back out with another pop to bring another gush of our cum and watch it stream down my thighs to pool in the dip of his pelvis.

 

“I was just kidding, I can go again.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Saying good-bye, even half asleep was near impossible. After our second round it was nearly three in the morning and Alec still had to pack for his 5:30 flight. He rushed around naked as I enjoyed the view while lounging in his bed with a stupid grin on my face. Of course the stupidity of my grin couldn’t compete with his inability to stop touching me for more than thirty seconds. He’d put the suitcase next to me on the bed so that every time he came back to put something in it he’d get to touch or kiss me. I tried to be helpful and fold or reorganize everything he just shoved into the carry-on bag, but all I wound up doing was burying my nose in his clean laundry to spread my scent everywhere. He’d smell like me for days and anyone who came near him would know he was mine.  _It’s just a week, you idiot. You’ve spent weeks apart before and you were fine._  But it wouldn’t be the same and the both of us knew it.

 

Bonding wasn’t a one and done kind of deal. Technically a bond just required two individuals biting each other’s mating glands and signing some legal documentation, but in actuality it was much more than that. A bonding  _experience_  as it were required weeks of scenting and marking and then, if an omega was involved, a heat and nesting would occur. Traditionally, only then would a pair bite hard enough to pierce the skin and biologically bond themselves. Betas and alphas experienced a period of hypersexual activity as they bonded, but an omega’s heat was already a sexual thing. Add a bonding bite on top of it and you got a seal for life unlike any other. Omegas boasted such a significantly lower rate of divorce and infidelity that when it did happen it made local headlines.

 

Thankfully the flight was a private one courtesy of MI6 so Alec didn’t have to leave early to wade through security checkpoints. After packing everything he needed, plus the shirt and sweatpants of his that I’d been wearing as he insisted they were very much necessary, we lay on the bed and cuddled. After gathering his things he’d been loathed to get into a suit, citing the lack of skin-to-skin contact, but I made it up to him in the shower. He’d had to brace against the shower wall as I stroked him. What was intended to be a quick hand job quickly devolved into him lying on the floor of the tub-shower combo as I knelt between his bent legs. He surprised himself, and me, with how quickly he came, cum splattering on my tits to his delight. He pulled me off him by my hair and dragged me into the filthiest kiss as his fingers found their way inside me briefly before he pulled away.

 

“Stand up, gorgeous,” he ordered and I obeyed without hesitation, though I did need a little help with the maneuvering. He stood with me, my back to his front, but before I could argue that we didn’t have time he was running his fingers between my legs teasingly, dipping in slightly and coming out with a string of wetness that would have embarrassed me with anyone else. He sucked his finger and groaned before using the wetness to tease my nipples fully hard and then slowly start to fuck me with two fingers. He edged me, slowly building me up only to abandon me and play with my breasts, leaning me back to suck one into his mouth and then the other.

 

“Are you trying to kill me?” I nearly sobbed as my head lulled back onto his shoulder. The only reason I was still upright was because Alec held me firmly around the middle with his left arm. He laughed around the nipple in his mouth, letting it go with a slurp and shot me that same damn grin that was going to kill me.

 

“Okay baby, you want to come?” he asked and I was about to berate him before he started playing with my bonding gland, right at the back of my neck, worrying it a little with his teeth and tracing the outline of the little soft nodule under my skin. I gasped, eyes rolling to the back of my head and losing consciousness for just a second at the sizzling heat that went through me. “Good girl, such a good girl,” he whispered in my ear and I came back from the peak to realize I was crying from the intensity. He wiped my tears and held me gently as I calmed, kissing me softly and rubbing my back.

 

* * * * * *

 

“I have-I have to go, lovely, but I will call you…from the plane,” he told me between kisses. I nodded and sighed as he kissed my forehead, “and call your…’peers’ about the broken window. I agree there’s no way that cat could have broken it.”

 

I kissed his cheek and wound a blond curl around my finger thoughtfully; “I have a safe house. I’ll be okay while everything gets checked.” He’d insisted if I didn’t want to get a high tech security system, I at least had to have a safe house off MI6 books. Apparently, all the agents did, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Q still knew where they were.

 

“Or you can stay here,” he offered with a smile I knew hid his anxiety that I’d refuse.

 

I huffed a laugh, “It’s a little too close to my own place for safety don’t you think? But I’ll be here when you get back.” My face heated slightly with the admission but it was worth the relief in his expression. He grabbed his bag and hiked it over his broad shoulder just as another impatient beep from the town car outside sounded and he rushed outside with a loud kiss to my cheek and another assurance he’d call me from the plane.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER CHAPTER HOPEFULLY COMING SOON  
> I've just re-uploaded this chapter after going through and completely editing our my grammatical mistakes (yay, no beta readers right? *cries*). I'm working on the 2nd half of this as we speak but I wanted to get this chapter polished before completing the fic <3


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